


Get Those Crazy Notions Right Out of Your Head

by mysticanni



Series: Rubber Ducks [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Café, Kissing, M/M, Rain, Rubber Ducks, Umbrellas, cocktails, improving on the facts, lady godiva, mixologist, tour guide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 00:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21090395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: Roger is a tour guide.Brian is not very impressed by him.Freddie finds him entertaining.John thinks he is cute.





	Get Those Crazy Notions Right Out of Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Joger Week 2019 prompt “I’d never name a duck that” although I don't actually manage to get any of them to say that. Sorry. 
> 
> I have no idea what this is but I quite like it and I hope you do too. 
> 
> Title is from 'Spread Your Wings'

Chester, England

  
Roger surveyed that afternoon’s tour group: an American couple (Stanley and Thelma); three Australians (Justin, Kerry and Jade) and three visitors from London (Freddie, Brian and John). ‘It’s lovely to meet you all. My name is Roger and I will be your tour guide today.’ He wondered about the two threesomes. Were they friends; lovers? John was utterly gorgeous. The London group looked rather mismatched. The Australians all looked like accountants.

  
‘Welcome to Chester!’ Roger continued enthusiastically. ‘You’ve picked a wonderful time of year to visit!’ Honestly, who the hell visited in late October? The Australians were shivering. Roger swirled his rainbow striped umbrella which, thankfully, he didn’t need to use to keep the rain off today. It was a crisp sunny afternoon. ‘Look for the umbrella to avoid getting lost!’

  
(‘You merely need to be conspicuous, Roger, not visible from space,’ his boss, Paul Prenter, had remarked when he saw the umbrella. Roger had been undeterred: the rainbow umbrella was cheerful and – more importantly – he could twirl it.)

  
One of the London group (the tall one with the mop of dark curls; Brian, Roger thought) snorted. He muttered something to his friend (lover?) with the long silky hair (Roger thought that was Freddie). Roger thought the muttered comment sounded like: ‘it’s hardly so busy that we would lose him and you could see that outfit from the moon!’

  
Roger suddenly felt a bit self-conscious. He cleared his throat. ‘This walk takes us past Chester’s famous racecourse: the oldest still operating racecourse in the world. We then continue down to the river.’ Roger found the racecourse rather dull, to be honest, but he was the newest guide so he got the dullest route. ‘Part of our walk will take us along a section of Chester’s historic city walls.’ Roger glanced rather dubiously at the London contingent’s footwear. Freddie was sporting platform boots; John high-heeled boots and Brian appeared to be wearing white clogs on his feet. Roger glanced at his own flat sparkly pink Converse and felt better about his choice of outfit.

  
*

  
John thought their cute little tour guide had heard Brian mock his outfit and felt guilty, although he had done nothing wrong. He brought up the rear of the group. The American couple were chatting to Roger. John eyed the Australians and wondered what their story was. He thought of all Australian men as bronzed surf gods, although he supposed that was a terrible national stereotype, but Justin looked like Harry Potter and Kerry and Jade both looked rather cross. That could be because it was freezing, though. None of them seemed particularly enthusiastic about the tour. John could relate to that: if Brian had not insisted on doing the tour John and Freddie would be in a bar somewhere. John idly reflected that Roger looked more like an (admittedly pale) surfer than Justin.

  
‘Deaky, darling, do try not to drool,’ Freddie murmured in his ear.

  
*

  
Roger was telling them that the racecourse had once been underwater, before the river had silted up. The land had been used to race horses since 1539.

  
As horse-racing was exceptionally dull Roger added, ‘Every seven years a re-enactment of Lady Godiva’s ride takes place here. As you are no doubt aware, shortly after the race-track opened Lady Godiva rode naked along it. She was covered only by her long hair.’ Roger glanced at John and an image of a naked long-haired John on a white horse flitted through his mind. ‘She did it because she wanted her evil husband to repeal a tax he had imposed on the poor serfs hereabouts.’ He thought Thelma looked rather shocked, but whether her shock was due to the story involving nudity or high levels of taxation he wasn’t sure.

  
*

  
John pictured Roger with longer hair mounted naked on a black stallion. He gulped. He was brought out of this dream as Brian spluttered, ‘That is complete nonsense!’

  
‘I’m sorry?’ Roger blinked.

  
‘So you should be!’ Brian cried. ‘Lady Godiva was from Coventry! And she lived a hell of a lot earlier than 1539! You can’t just make stuff up!’

  
Roger thought he had actually just made something up. He had not expected Americans, Australians or Londoners to know the history of Coventry but that had evidently been a foolish assumption. Stanley, Thelma and the Australians were staring at him. ‘I am so sorry!’ he sang cheerfully, twirling his umbrella, ‘Of course, the real Lady Godiva rode through Coventry. What I meant to say was that every seven years we carry out a re-enactment here.’ He was fairly certain that Brian would not be sure if that was true or false and although Brian scowled at Roger he did not contradict him, much to Roger’s relief. Trying to move along, Roger added, ‘Lady Godiva’s name is where the word ‘diva’ comes from.’

  
‘That’s utter rubbish!’ Brian exploded.

  
*

  
John coughed. ‘Actually, Brian, that is factually correct.’ He had no idea if it was or not and hoped Brian was not about to look it up on his phone. It sounded plausible but Roger was evidently an outrageous, glorious, delicious fantasist.

  
*

  
Freddie was delighted: the tour was turning out to be much more entertaining than he had anticipated. The guide was a little gem.

  
*

  
Brian glared at John and Roger. ‘I stand corrected,’ he muttered sulkily.

  
*

  
‘Shall we keep going?’ Roger suggested brightly. ‘We have so much to see!’

  
*

  
Roger’s heart sank as he led his little group along by the river and saw his boss, Paul Prenter, lurking by one of the Victorian ice-cream kiosks (he was fairly certain they were Victorian but there was a possibility they dated from slightly earlier and were therefore Georgian; Roger had been distracted by a cat with an injured paw at this point in his induction tour and wasn’t absolutely sure). ‘The three cute little ice-cream huts were built by the Victorians specifically for selling ice-cream and they are still used for that purpose today,’ Roger informed them. He loved that fact. It was his favourite fact of the tour.

  
‘Gee, I imagine Victorian ice-cream would have been very different,’ Stanley murmured.

  
‘I expect so,’ Roger agreed. ‘So, that concludes our tour. I do hope you’ve enjoyed it.’

  
‘I’d certainly like to hear your views,’ Paul said, stepping forward. ‘I’m Paul Prenter. I run the tour company.’

  
‘Roger has been simply marvellous!’ Thelma said warmly. Roger could have kissed her.

  
‘It’s been extremely entertaining, darling!’ Freddie added.

  
Roger was rather surprised when Jade, who had not said a word during the tour, piped up, ‘Yeah, really informative.’

  
Roger thought for a giddy moment that he was going to get away with it. Then Brian yelled, ‘He told us a pack of fucking lies! He’s absolutely shameless!’

  
Paul’s eyes lit up.

  
The Americans and the Australians began to edge away and any tips they might have bestowed upon Roger began to drift off with them, he reflected gloomily. That was the least of his problems though. Brian was regaling Paul with the Lady Godiva story. Freddie looked amused. John looked embarrassed.

  
‘Is this true, Taylor?’ Paul asked.

  
Roger figured there was no point in lying. ‘Yes.’

  
Paul looked gleeful. ‘You’re fired!’

  
*

  
The Londoners looked taken aback. Brian began to protest but Roger knew he was wasting his breath: Paul had been waiting for a chance to fire him. He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. ‘Understood,’ he nodded curtly, twirled his umbrella and walked away. He forced himself to keep his pace slow. He was sauntering off, not running away.

  
And he was definitely not; absolutely not crying.

  
*

  
The cat was waiting for him as if she knew that he would need her comfort. She was pure black and only liked Roger, who had returned to the ice-cream kiosks after his induction tour and taken her to the vet to get her injured paw fixed. The cat had stayed with him. (A witch’s cat, Crystal had noted after she had hissed at Crystal and flexed her claws in his direction.) Roger simply called her Cat. (He had seen ‘Breakfast At Tiffanys’ at an impressionable age.) He scooped her up and it must have been some kind of sudden new allergy that made his eyes water because he was definitely not crying. ‘Oh, Cat, I fucked up my new job,’ he whispered to her.

  
*

  
‘You couldn’t have just let it go?’ John hissed at Brian. He would have to rescue Freddie in a minute: the Prenter bloke had taken an enthusiastic interest in him.

  
‘Well, how was I supposed to know he would lose his job?’ Brian muttered. ‘I thought he would simply receive a reprimand, which he thoroughly deserved, by the way!’ Brian became indignant again, ‘He made stuff up!’

  
John rolled his eyes. ‘He was funny and entertaining and doing no harm,’ he said, ‘but now he is unemployed, because of you.’

  
Freddie turned to them, eyes shining. ‘Darlings, Paul, here, would like to buy us all a drink to make up for the unsatisfactory tour.’

  
John scowled. ‘Personally, I loved the tour!’

  
Brian nudged him. ‘A drink sounds lovely.’

  
They followed Prenter to a small bar down an alley near the cathedral. There were booths of varying sizes with green leather seats and sparkling glass tables. They slid into a booth and Freddie picked up the cocktail menu. A man with shoulder length dark hair and an earring glinting in one ear approached them.

  
‘Crystal!’ Prenter sounded delighted. ‘We are honoured: service from the bar owner.’

  
John wondered if they were supposed to be impressed because he knew the bar owner by name? The man (Crystal?) didn’t look very thrilled about knowing Prenter.

Prenter made a show of looking around. ‘I thought Roger might be here by now. I expected him to be begging you for more shifts: I had to let him go, I’m afraid.’

  
‘That is a shame,’ Crystal said, sounding like he couldn't care less, ‘’cause I know he adored working for you.’ He glanced around the table. ‘What can I get you?’

  
*

  
Roger jumped as his phone rang. He squinted at the display. It was Crystal. He mumbled a hello.

  
‘Hey, Waif,’ Crystal said cheerfully. ‘What did you do to get the sack?’

  
Roger gulped. He was not crying. He had developed some kind of stupid allergy that made his eyes water. ‘I... I...’

  
‘Why don’t you come over and start your shift early?’ Crystal suggested gently. ‘You can tell me all about it and I’ll let you spit in Prenter’s drink if you like.’

  
‘He’s there?’ Roger sniffled.

  
‘You don’t have to speak to him,’ Crystal promised.

  
*

  
Roger went to the staff entrance at the rear of the bar. ‘Hey,’ he mumbled to Crystal who hugged him.

  
‘What happened?’ Crystal asked as Roger tied on his apron. Roger told him about the Lady Godiva incident. ‘Okay, you are an idiot,’ Crystal noted, ‘but Prenter and poodle-hair are dicks.’ He glared at their table.

  
Roger gasped, realising for the first time that the Londoners were there too. Crystal clasped his shoulder. ‘Rog, I am waiting on their table. You just need to do what you do best and make cocktails.’ He studied Roger. ‘That offer of a full time job is always on the table,’ he said softly.

  
Roger nodded. ‘Thanks. Can I think about it?’

  
‘Course you can.’

  
*

  
The bar was filling up. Their cute little tour guide had appeared behind the bar looking delectable with his hair in a messy bun. He was making cocktails. John was transfixed by him. Every move he made had a purpose, he worked highly efficiently. He shook the cocktail shaker in time with the music. It was a rhythmic mesmerising performance. Watching Roger move John wondered what he would be like in bed.

  
‘Are you channelling Tom Cruise in ‘Cocktail’ again?’ Crystal murmured, hip-checking Roger so he could access the fridge for wine.

  
‘I do this better than Tom Cruise,’ Roger said smugly. Crystal snorted. Then he looked at Roger again.

  
‘Oh, Waif, which one of them do you have your pretty blue eyes on?’

  
Roger flushed. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  
‘Sure you don’t. The one in the yellow jacket,’ Crystal guessed.

  
‘That’s Freddie,’ Roger told him, ‘and no, although he looks fun.’

  
‘Grudge sex with poodle?’ Crystal suggested and laughed at the look of horror on Roger’s face. ‘Nah, too tall for you, little stunted Waif.’ He grinned. ‘So you would like to become more intimately acquainted with Mr. Long Hair and Soulful Eyes?’

  
‘John,’ Roger mumbled, blushing, ‘but he has seen me look a total fool, so...’

  
Crystal laughed. ‘Roggie, most of your sexual partners have seen you act like a complete idiot beforehand and it doesn’t seem to put people off!’

  
‘Fuck you,’ Roger said sweetly, adding strawberries to two glasses. ‘These are for table four.’

  
*

  
‘He has another job,’ Brian observed, following John’s gaze. ‘He won’t starve.’

  
‘What if this job is paying his rent and his tour guide job was providing food?’ Freddie popped the raspberry garnishing his drink into his mouth. ‘Then he would totally starve.’

  
‘He can eat fruit here,’ Brian growled unsympathetically.

  
‘No need to worry about Roger,’ Prenter assured them. ‘He works here and at the coffee shop down the road, Brew.’

  
John thought it was unlikely anyone would work three jobs unless they needed the money but there was no point in saying so: he could tell Prenter would actually be glad if he had put Roger in a tricky financial position.

  
Crystal came over to their table. ‘Ready for another round, gentlemen?’ he asked.

  
Prenter glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better be going, but the same again for everyone else?’

  
*

  
Crystal watched Prenter leave. He suspected Prenter had told the Londoners he would pay. He hadn’t. He looked at John watching Roger and sighed. Free drinks for this lot were going to cost him a fortune. ‘Why don’t you take these over?’ he suggested to Roger. ‘Prenter’s gone now.’

  
*

  
The blond was approaching with their drinks. John shook out his hair and flushed as Freddie turned to see who he was preening himself for. ‘Oh, Bri, darling, I do hope you don’t end up wearing your drink!’ Freddie grinned.

  
Brian looked uneasy. He smiled as the tour guide set the tray holding their drinks down on the table.

  
Roger surveyed them gravely. ‘Let me guess... The Queen Bee....’ He glanced at Freddie then offered it to John.

  
‘Why d’ you think that’s his?’ Freddie demanded.

  
‘That one is gin based,’ Roger explained. ‘You are the vodka based Garden Party which means that you,’ he looked at Brian, ‘must be the Aviation. You seem like purple would be your colour.’

  
‘I’m impressed, dear,’ Freddie said. ‘Did you spit in Brian’s?’ he added in a conspiratorial whisper.

  
Roger grinned. ‘No,’ he winked. ‘I can’t afford to lose two jobs in one day.’

  
Brian flushed. ‘You shouldn’t have lied!’ he cried defensively.

  
‘That is code for: he is sorry he got you fired,’ John said.

  
Brian glared at John. ‘While I certainly didn’t intend for you to lose your job I cannot condone lying.’

  
Roger shrugged. ‘I was stupid. It’s done now. Enjoy your drinks.’ He turned to leave then swung back. ‘You don’t have to answer this but... Are y’all together?’

  
Brian spluttered. ‘No!’ he sounded horrified.

  
‘That’s not very flattering, dear,’ Freddie reproved him. ‘No, darling, we met in a competitive scrabble playing group at Uni.’

  
‘And now you go on holiday together? That’s lovely,’ Roger said warmly, wondering if competitive scrabble playing was a euphemism for something that he had not encountered before.

  
‘It’s not a holiday, exactly,’ John told him. ‘Brian is a historian. He’s taken a job at one of the museums here. We are helping him to settle in.’

  
‘Oh!’ Roger felt bad. ‘I’m so sorry I offended you with my alternative history on the tour, Brian.’

  
‘I may have over reacted,’ Brian offered.

  
‘Oi! Rog! Get back to work!’ Crystal yelled.

  
*

  
Freddie and Brian were staggering towards the door. John veered to the bar. ‘What do we owe you?’ he asked Crystal. ‘I assume Mr. Prenter didn’t pay for all our drinks?’ Although Freddie and Brian clearly thought he had.

  
Crystal laughed. ‘He didn’t pay at all.’

  
John felt faint. This place was not cheap. And they had drunk a lot. ‘Oh! Erm...’

‘Don’t worry about it. They are on the house. Roger seems to like you.’

  
‘That is very generous of you.’

  
‘Yeah, well, don’t ever tell him I said this but Roger is the best mixologist I know.’ Crystal shrugged. ‘I need to keep him sweet.’

  
*

  
It rained heavily that night. It was still raining in the morning which pleased Roger as he could use his umbrella. A large puddle usually developed at the end of the street Roger lived on when there was heavy rain and Roger always placed some little toy ducks in the puddle to brighten people’s rainy day.

  
He had a few ducks now. Today he took the blue one (Quack Efron); one of the plain yellow ducks (Daffy) and his favourite, the yellow duck with sunglasses painted on it (James Pond).

  
Once they were floating in the puddle he set off to work in the coffee shop. Phoebe was unlocking the door as he approached. ‘Good morning, Lovely!’ Phoebe greeted him. ‘I heard about Prenter firing you. Are you okay, Sweetie?’

  
Roger followed him inside, propping his umbrella in the umbrella rack and submitting to a damp hug. ‘It was my own silly fault, Phoebs.’

‘You can have extra shifts here if you need, Roggie,’ Phoebe offered.

  
‘Thanks. Crys offered too. I’ll think about it, if that’s okay?’

  
‘Of course it is.’

  
*

  
When they headed out for breakfast someone had put little rubber ducks (well, plastic ducks really, John supposed) in the large puddle at the end of the street. One of the ducks had sunglasses on.

  
‘Cute,’ Brian said, taking a photo of the ducks to post on Instagram.

  
The black cat in the house next door to Brian’s watched them from the window as they headed down the street.

  
*

  
Cat watched the new people from next door leave. She wondered if she would like Roger’s lover. He had the look of someone who might make the bed in the morning which was an undesirable trait. She headed back to Roger’s currently unmade bed and curled up on it possessively.

  
*

  
‘This looks okay,’ John remarked, nodding at the cafe Prenter had mentioned the previous evening as being Roger’s other place of employment. John had been pretty sure neither Brian nor Freddie had picked up on that but Freddie was giving him a knowing look.

  
‘Let’s get out of the rain, then!’ Brian said cheerfully, opening the door.

  
They were greeted by warmth and a lovely smell of baking as they entered. A plump cheerful man hurried over. ‘Welcome! Come in out of the rain! I’m Phoebe.’ He guided them to one of the few unoccupied tables: it was evidently a popular place.  
‘Is someone singing?’ Freddie asked. They could faintly hear someone appropriately warbling ‘Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head’

  
‘That’s Roger,’ Phoebe told them. ‘He thinks bread rises better if you sing to it,’ he added fondly.

  
‘Roger?’ Brian frowned.

  
John could tell Brian was about to ask if this was the same Roger who had been their tour guide and who had made them cocktails the previous evening. However, the door jangled open and Phoebe hurried off to greet the most recent customer, which turned out to be Crystal.

  
‘Crystal!’ Phoebe exclaimed. ‘You’re earlier than usual!’ He glanced around. ‘I don’t have a table...’

  
Crystal was already loping towards their table, which had four seats. ‘You don’t mind if I sit with you, do you?’ he asked.

  
Brian was always scrupulously polite and had started to agree to this request before Crystal had finished asking. John thought it was a mixed blessing: on the one hand it was almost certainly about to become apparent to Brian that Roger worked here, too, but on the other hand... Perhaps he should take the plunge himself. ‘Do you always have breakfast here?’ he asked Crystal.

  
Crystal nodded. ‘I usually come in later, though. Roger makes the best scones and although I would like him to work for me full time it’d be a shame to deprive the world of his baking.’

  
Phoebe set a mug of tea in front of Crystal, who presumably had an unchanging regular order. ‘Don’t try to poach Roger,’ he warned Crystal.

  
‘I won’t if you won’t.’ Crystal grinned.

  
Phoebe smiled. ‘And what can I get you?’ he asked the others.

  
Brian opted for mushrooms on toast; Freddie chose scrambled eggs on toast and John glanced at Crystal, blushed, and requested a scone. Freddie wanted tea and Brian and John asked for coffee.

  
‘Coming right up,’ Phoebe beamed.

  
John was just resigning himself to the fact that Roger would be in the kitchen, unseen, when he appeared behind the cash register to take payment from a young couple. He looked gorgeous with his hair in a pony-tail and John’s heart skipped a beat. Roger was altering his rhythm he reflected hazily.

  
Crystal raised a hand and Roger smiled and waved at him before retreating back into the kitchen. Freddie leaned forward. ‘So, Mr... May I call you Crystal?’ He did not wait for a reply before continuing, ‘Roger seems simply fascinating, darling, do tell us all about him.’

  
*

  
Crystal sipped his tea and eyed John. He’d dragged himself out of bed early to see if his hunch that John would appear at Roger’s other place of work this morning was correct, which it was. Roger was likely to be deliciously awkward and Crystal had high hopes of an entertaining encounter between the two. He surveyed Freddie. ‘What would you like to know?’

  
‘I want to know everything, darling!’ Freddie replied.

  
‘You’ll need to ask him yourself,’ Crystal said, sipping his tea.

  
*

  
‘You didn’t say they were here!’ Roger hissed at Phoebe.

  
‘Should I have?’ Phoebe asked, puzzled.

  
‘Yes! They were on the tour yesterday! The one with the curly hair got me fired!’ Roger wrung his hands.

  
‘I’ll go and kick them out!’ Phoebe gasped in horror.

  
‘What? No! John is cute!’

  
Phoebe beamed at him. ‘You had better take them their food, then!’ He peered around the kitchen door. ‘Which one is John?’

  
*

  
Roger gave John the larger of the two scones with a cheery ‘Good morning!’ and ignored Crystal’s pointed look at his smaller scone. He placed the eggs in front of Freddie and the mushrooms in front of Brian. He jumped as Freddie seized his wrist.

  
‘Why am I the scrambled eggs rather than the scone, darling?’ Freddie demanded.

  
Roger stared at him blankly for a moment then laughed. ‘Phoebe told me who ordered what,’ he explained. ‘Although you’d be savoury not sweet and I think Brian is vegetarian.’ He smiled shyly at John. ‘You’re sweet.’ He flushed as he realised what he had said. ‘I mean, you would be sweet rather than savoury!’ he spluttered.

  
John blushed.

  
Crystal grinned. To prevent this beautifully flustered Roger from escaping back to the kitchen he asked, ‘Did you put ducks in the puddle this morning, Rog?’

‘We saw ducks in a puddle,’ Brian noted. He produced his phone and found the photo he had taken. ‘These...’

  
‘Yeah, Rog puts them there,’ Crystal said, ‘He has a collection of ‘em: thinks they brighten people’s day.’

  
‘They do,’ John said firmly.

  
Roger blushed.

  
‘Which ones are these?’ Crystal asked. ‘He has names for them,’ he told the others.

  
Roger was crimson with embarrassment which served him right for giving Crystal the smaller scone.

  
Roger mumbled the names of the ducks. He would kill Crystal later, he decided. Brian was giving him a politely disbelieving look as if he couldn’t fathom how someone like Roger could possibly exist. Freddie looked delighted. ‘How many ducks do you have, dear? Are they all different?’ Freddie glanced at John. ‘You could call one Beaky Deaky. Deaky is John’s nickname.’

  
Roger looked shocked. ‘I couldn’t name a duck after a real person!’ he objected.

  
‘One of them is called Quack Efron,’ Brian pointed out.

  
‘He’s not a real person!’ Roger said dismissively. ‘Not, y’ know, like an actual person that I have met...’

  
Brian muttered, ‘Well, I wouldn’t call a duck that.’

  
Roger reflected that Brian did not seem the type to name ducks, not even real ducks let alone toy ones. ‘Deaky?’ he asked.

  
‘My surname is Deacon,’ John explained. He was rather surprised, but pleased, to hear himself add, ‘May I buy you lunch?’

  
‘I’d love that,’ Roger beamed.

  
They both flushed as Freddie applauded. Crystal grinned. ‘Now get back to work, Waif,’ Crystal said, ‘Phoebe’s being run ragged over there.’

  
‘Just before you do...’ John stood and pulled Roger closer to him, kissing him.

  
This time everyone in the cafe applauded.

  
*

  
Roger took Crystal’s payment at the cash desk. Crystal leaned over the counter and murmured, ‘You can start your shift later tonight, if you like. In case anything... er... comes up... that you have to take care of.’ He enjoyed making Roger blush. It had been well worth getting up early.

  
*

  
Cat thought John was tolerable. Roger had explained that Cat preferred the bed left unmade (Roger was an excellent human) and John tried to comply, although sometimes his innate neatness got the better of him. He made Roger happy though and Cat thoroughly approved of that.

**Author's Note:**

> If you managed to get to the end of this nonsense and now need a drink then the cocktail recipes are available on tumblr where I am also mysticanni. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Let me know what you thought?


End file.
